


Patient Zero

by IronicSnap



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Minor Original Character(s), Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 13:59:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6426631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronicSnap/pseuds/IronicSnap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look at the first predator to mysteriously "go savage" - one of Lionheart's beloved bodyguards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patient Zero

**Author's Note:**

> [Credit where it's due: I didn't come up with this idea myself, but saw it posited on the TvTropes page for Zootopia Fridge Brilliance/Horror. I really liked the concept, so I cribbed it. For truly, what is writing, but merely stealing the ideas that appeal to you? Well, it's also writing them, and I did that too.]

Lionheart clicked his front door shut with a satisfied sigh. The sun was bright in Savannah Square, and the sky was fresh and blue.  
  
Another fine, fine morning in his city.  
  
Lionheart strode up to his limousine, where two of his wolf bodyguards were waiting patiently – his boys. Conall, white furred and blue eyed; Randolph, grey with golden eyes. Both in black suits which paired well with Lionheart's own navy attire.  
  
“Morning, sir,” Conall greeted.

“Morning, boys!” cried Lionheart. He punched Randolph affectionately on the arm. “How're you two doing? How's the wife?”

“Just fine, sir,” Randolph replied with a slight smirk. “Better than yours, I'm guessing.”

Lionheart laughed heartily - it was the same joke every day, but he always laughed. As far as he was concerned, his boys told good jokes.  
  
“Anything in particular happening today, sir?” asked Conall as he sat into the driver's seat. Lionheart and Randolph sat in the back, the small partition between the front and back of the limo left open as always.  
  
“Just the usual nonsense,” Lionheart said dismissively. “Bellweather wants me to sign off on some thing to do with the... subway system, I think? I wasn't listening.”  
  
“Sounds _real_ important, sir,” said Randolph. He rolled his window down and hung his arm out, the breeze ruffling his sleeve.  
  
“Pfft, yeah,” scoffed Lionheart. “Conall, go ahead and take the usual way to City Hall.”  
  
“The scenic route it is, sir.”  
  
They pulled away from Lionheart's impressive home and headed along the highway in the exact opposite direction to the city centre. Lionheart had worked out the perfect route to City Hall – it passed by many of Zootopia's beautiful views and took a frankly obnoxious amount of time, but also hit a minimum of traffic lights and run-down areas. He had it down to a science. If there was a genuine emergency, he could appear at City Hall much faster than usual, immediately showing his concern and strong leadership. If there was nothing waiting for him but Bellweather and another stack of insipid paperwork, he could spend the maximum amount of time shooting the breeze with his boys.

It happened as they were coming up to one of the large, imposing tunnels separating Zootopia's biome districts. Conall was telling Lionheart a funny anecdote from his cousin's wedding over the weekend. Randolph had already heard the story, so he was only half-listening, looking absently out of the window.

Something caught Randolph's eye. He leaned forward and went to say something. Before he could, something struck him in the face. He yelped and put his hand to the pain instinctively, accidentally dislodging what had hit him.  
  
The bullet fell through the car window and bounced into the sewer.  
  
Lionheart and Conall shared a quick glance through the rear-view mirror. “You okay, Randy?” asked Lionheart.  
  
The limo entered the tunnel. Things got dark.

Randy doubled over, his fingers digging into the fur of his face. He made an odd choking noise, and then a growl racked through his body. Under his suit, his muscles twisted and contorted unnaturally.  
  
Lionheart watched him with concern. “Good god, man, what's wrong?”  
  
Randolph's ear twitched at the sound of Lionheart's voice. He cracked his head up suddenly. Lionheart involuntarily gasped at what he saw.  
  
Randolph's face was twisted in wordless rage. His usual relaxed demeanour was completely gone. The lights of the tunnel flicking past the moving car caught his eyes, which were furious. Slitted. Animal.  
  
For a moment he just glared at Lionheart, a growl on his lips. Then, without warning, he lunged forward, his teeth out.

“Gah!” Lionheart threw his arms out to protect himself. He was able to grab the wolf's wrists, holding him off.

“Randy, is - is this some kind of joke?!” Lionheart struggled to keep the wolf back, his hands tightening around the bodyguard's wrists. “Stop it! **Stop it now!** ”  
  
“What's going on?!” Conall's eyes danced uncertainly between the road and the rear-view mirror, torn between the two. He made out Randy's silhouette in the darkness, throwing himself at Lionheart. Conall swerved off the main road and down a maintenance tunnel. The rubber of the limousine's tires shrieked in confusion. Mercifully, the tunnel was empty.

He pulled roughly a stop and fell through the car door just as the growls behind him started to intensify.

Randolph was snapping at Lionheart's face, his sharp teeth getting closer and closer. Lionheart sucked in a breath, then pulled one leg tightly against his torso. He kicked at Randolph, hitting him in the stomach, and pushed his arms back at the same time. Randolph slammed into the other side of the limo, but he immediately recovered and went to lunge at the lion again.

The door behind him flew open and Conall tackled him from behind, both wolves falling to the limousine's floor. Randolph snarled and twisted, moving furiously, but Conall caught him in an effective hold, pinning his arms. Randy had always been better at hand-to-hand – if he wanted to, he could easily break the hold with the right technique. Instead, he struggled wildly, trying in vain to bite Conall's face.

Lionheart watched his bodyguard in concerned horror. “Randy, _please_! Snap out of it! What are you doing?!”  
  
Randolph looked directly at Lionheart, but didn't seem to recognize him. He didn't seem truly aware of anything. He just growled.  
  
Lionheart sighed heavily. “I'm... I'm sorry, Randy.” He looked past him to Conall. “Hold him still.”

Before Conall could ask what Lionheart was going to do, the lion squared his shoulders and punched Randolph in the side of the head, nailing him with a left hook. Randolph let out an anguished whine and Lionheart winced.  
  
Randolph sagged a little but recovered, snarling at Lionheart even more ferociously. Lionheart closed his eyes, exhaled, and then hit him three more times. Three more punches to the side of Randolph's head – right, left, right. On the third Randolph finally stopped struggling. Conall let him slip loose from his grip.

Lionheart looked up, shaking the feeling back into his hand. “Word of advice if you ever have kids, Conall,” he said sternly. “Boxing lessons. No matter how much they don't like it. It's an invaluable skill.” He watched Randolph warily. “Case in point.”

“Yes, sir.” Conall nervously glanced to Randolph, unmoving on the floor of the car. He was still breathing, but clearly out cold. They both watched him for a few seconds before Conall broke the silence. “What are we...”

“Trunk,” said Lionheart.

Conall blinked. “Uh, si-”

“The _trunk_ , genius! Put him in the trunk!” snapped the mayor. “And do it quickly.” He paused for a moment, unsure of himself. Seeing Lionheart so shaken was not helping Conall's considerable fear. “No, wait, I'll help you,” the lion said after a while. “Come on, man, come on!”

Keeping an eye out for any witnesses, they hefted Randy up and slid him into the boot of the car. Conall slammed the trunk shut and let out a shuddering breath.  
  
“What now?” he asked. “Should I call Chief Bogo?”  
  
Lionheart stared pensively at the closed trunk. “No,” he said finally. “Something about this is... something's off. Very off. Bogo's a good man, but he... thinks in straight lines. The best he can do is lock Randy up somewhere.”  
  
Conall nodded uncertainly. “Well, will I tell Bellweather?”  
  
Lionheart scoffed. “Don't bother. This is a _real_ problem; she'd be useless.” He ran a hand through his mane and sighed angrily. “Something is off,” he repeated. “Something about this is really...”  
  
Lionheart trailed off, leaving a heavy silence weighing on them both. Conall shifted uncomfortably. Talking about it was painful, but he quickly discovered the silence was far, far worse. “I... don't understand why he would do something like that.”  
  
“He wouldn't. He didn't!” Lionheart looked at Conall fiercely. “Use your head. Randy knows how to fight properly. Whatever that was... it was wild, uncoordinated. Sloppy. He wasn't _himself_. He's sick, or something!”  
  
Conall looked around the dark tunnel. He could see the lights of passing cars as they drove past the entrance to the tunnel. They were alone for now, but if they were going to do something, they had to get moving. The mayor and one of his bodyguards staring in horror at their own car was bound to look odd.  
  
“Cliffside,” said Lionheart suddenly. “Conall, you remember Cliffside Hospital, don't you?”

Conall nodded, recalling the hospital that was closed down for shooting past its budgetary restraints.

“Good. Take us there. Fast.”

Conall reclaimed the driver's seat as Lionheart sat in the back. He made a phone call to someone. Conall was too focused on the road to make out the conversation. If he stopped focusing on the road he'd have to think about what just happened.

Lionheart ended the phone call and cleared his throat. “Doctor Badger will meet us there. You and I need to be ready to move Randy into one of the high-security cells in case whatever's gotten into him... hasn't gotten out of him.”

“Sir,” croaked Conall, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “What are we going to do?”  
  
“I'll tell you what we're going to do. First, we're going to put Randy somewhere where he'll be safe. Then, _I'm_ going to get to work fixing this, while _you_ call Gary and everyone else.” Lionheart rubbed his face with one hand. “I'm going to need people I can trust. People who know how to keep their mouths shut.”  
  
“But what are we going to tell the public? His wife-”

“His wife isn't going to hear about it," said Lionheart forcefully. “I wouldn't... subject her to that. Randy's going to be fine. You and I are going to see to that.” Lionheart stared out the window, his eyes hard.

“Whatever this is, I'm going to fix it, hell or high water. This is my city. Randy's _my_ boy. I won't let him down.”

* * *

“ _It's Doug. Yeah. It's done._  
  
“ _Nah. I wanted to hit the driver, but his window was down. Settled for the idiot in the back._  
  
_“Well, they drove into the tunnel. I dunno. But I know I got him._  
  
_“I still don't get why we don't just shoot Lionheart himself and be done with it._  
  
_“Heh... nah, I can see the appeal of making him suffer. Just not how I'd do it, is all. But you're the boss._  
  
_“Yeah, I've got enough for something like, five more doses? And Weaselton is happy to keep supply coming._  
  
_“You got it, boss. There's more where this came from._  
  
_“I won't let you down.”_


End file.
